


All Roads Lead to Rome

by merthurlin



Series: i will always find you in the drift [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Gen, Minor Character Death, all relationships are in the past, i'm so emo about this AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8603485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merthurlin/pseuds/merthurlin
Summary: Magnus, Taako and Merle each came by their pilot status in a different way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy, do I have some backstories for you! I tried to keep the setting pretty ambiguous, so you can imagine it takes place either in our world or the TAZ world. Taako's voice was REALLY hard for me to nail down, so I hope I managed alright.
> 
> Coming up next: the Director, Angus, and Lucas!

For Magnus, the drift was always about love.

When the first Kaiju showed up, people were still optimistic. Naïve. “A freak occurrence”, they called it. “A one in a million chance”, “A result of radioactive experiments”, “A punishment from the gods”. For once the nation was united, and people all over the world saw as the coast began to rebuild itself. “The beauty of human preservation”, read the titles of newspapers all over the world. After the bodies were buried and the dust was settled, people seemed to put it behind them. Sure, conspiracy theorists thrived, but when haven’t they? Things were looking up.

Then the second Kaiju rose from the deeps, and the world changed forever.

People became afraid. The future rose before them, unknown; would more of them show up? What are they? What do they want? The governments had no answer. The army had no solution. The cooperation that was struck up after the first attack vanished into thin air – every country for itself, every person for himself. 

And still – human preservation. People refused to give up their hometowns, even near the ocean. “This is our home”, millions of voices cried, and refused to give up. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was pride, maybe it was foolish – probably a combination of all three. It was certainly very human, and very commendable. The governments ate it up, proudly presenting those people as propaganda, patriotic to the very end. Martyrs of a government that didn’t know how to help them.

Magnus grew up in Raven’s Roost, near the coast. It was the only place he ever knew – he travelled, from time to time, but that place was his home. He knew every corner, every street. Here is where he first fell off a tree, here is where he got his first black eye protecting a stray dog from a bully, here is where he had his first kiss. Here is where he met Julia, here is where he proposed, here is where they married.

Here is where the Kaiju first landed. Here is where their town burned down.

They were on their honeymoon when the news came out – it was the first attack, so people were still confused, the reporting was still conflicted. One channel said a tsunami, the other claimed a shark attack. Magnus wanted to rush straight back, of course, but Julia convinced him to wait, to see how things turn out.

(She never said it, but Magnus knew, like he knew everything about her after the drift – she felt guilty, so guilty, about that. Like if they could have come back earlier, they could have saved someone, anyone.

He never said it, but he knew she knew, like she knew everything about him after the drift – he felt grateful, so grateful, that he got to keep her. Even if at the end it wasn’t forever).

So they stayed away, and Raven’s Roost was destroyed, nothing left of it but memories. But still, they had each other and they had human preservation – and the world continued on.

When scientists realized the existence of the tear in the bottom of the ocean, they also realized that this wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t disappear on its own, and while they figured out how to make it disappear, someone needed to do something to prevent more tragedies. Another Raven’s Roost.

Magnus and Julia and the world watched as the government announced the Jaeger Project. It sounded so far-fetched, so much more like a book than reality. A giant robot to fight the giant monster – a logic of a child, and not of a nation. But when the first drift was achieved, and the first Jaeger was deployed, fantasy became reality. 

The Kaiju wasn’t even officially pronounced dead before Magnus and Julia signed up for the pilot program.

It wasn’t even something they discussed verbally, but something they just knew they had to do. The press had a field day with the idea of the drift, and Magnus knew that if he could drift with anyone, he could do it with her – and he knew that if he can help anyone, even a little, he must. It was as ingrained for him as the act of breathing; helping people, protecting them. If Julia had asked him, he would have given it all up for her, but she loved him, and so she didn’t. 

The training was brutal. Magnus was a fairly muscly guy, but he wasn’t trained for it. His muscles were the product of hours of work slaving in the carpentry, hauling around large pieces of wood and furniture. Julia was no slouch either, but still. The program worked them to the ground.

The simulations though – that they were good at. Magnus was always good at thinking on his feet, and Julia was always a planner. They got by with a combination of skill and smart, instincts and anticipation. Together they managed to destroy every high score set in front of them, set some new ones, and then break those the next opportunity. They felt unbeatable, unstoppable. At night they laid together and sketched their plans – not for revenge, but for protection. For making sure nothing like Raven’s Roost would ever happen again.

Their final test was the drift itself. The physical exams, the simulations – none of it would matter if they couldn’t drift, if they couldn’t open up and be as one. Most people were nervous, at this point. Being so vulnerable in front of another person, letting them see all of you, all at once… it was terrifying just as much as it was exhilarating.

Magnus and Julia stood in their pods and knew they had nothing to fear. Magnus knew there was no part of Julia he didn’t love. He didn’t know all of her, could never have before the drift, but still. He would love all of her, drift or no drift. And he knew it was a two-way street: he had nothing to fear because there was nothing in him that Julia wouldn’t love, nothing that would put a wedge between them. Julia would hit him and call him sappy when he said it, but it was true: sometimes he felt like he was made just for her to love, just for her to cherish.

(She would hit him and call him sappy, but sometimes, she said the same).

Surprising no one, their drift compability was one of the highest ever recorded. The Director spent no excess time before fitting them up for their suits, and then –

Magnus would never forget the first time he saw their Jaeger. They were holding hands, and they may not have been afraid before, but they were now, a bit. Like it didn’t seem real before, and now it was – the reality of the hulking giant standing in front of them, motionless and yet terrifying, waiting only for their command to move, to destroy and protect.

Julia squeezed his hand, or maybe he squeezed hers, and they stepped forward, into the belly of the beast, so to speak. 

It was their Jaeger, and thus their Jaeger to name. They debated for a few days, throwing around names and nicknames. In another life, in another world, maybe this would have been the same – him and Julia, sitting and arguing names. In another life, in another world, in a Raven’s Roost that hadn’t been destroyed, a Julia with a big stomach, a Magnus with a big grin, a baby with no name.

But this wasn’t that world, and maybe they both wanted to remember that possibility of happiness, because their Jaeger would proudly present the name Ravensroost to a world that might have forgotten the sacrifice.

They were a good team, a great team. Dispatched again and again, raking up the number of Kaiju deaths and raking down the number of causalities. The media loved them – a husband and wife so in love with each other, and so in love with the world around them that they would risk their lives for everyone’s sake.

And through it all, the drift. The drift was constant. Until it wasn’t.

It wasn’t the biggest Kaiju they have faced. It wasn’t the scariest, or the deadliest, or the strongest. The “Dictator”, as it was named, was simply the fastest one. Too fast for Magnus’ instincts. Too fast for Julia’s plans. Too fast for Ravensroost’s punches.

Julia’s death was also too fast. Too fast to understand. Too fast to comprehend. One minute there, then she was gone, a gaping wound in the drift. Where there were supposed to be two remained one, and the drift was never built for a one.

Magnus wasn’t built for a one.

He never managed to remember what happened next. Watching the footage, later, he saw Ravensroost, half of its head ripped off (half of Magnus ripped off), land one final, lucky shot. He was told that somehow, impossibly, he managed to drag the Jaeger back to shore, before collapsing into a three day coma.

He became somewhat of a legend, after that. Even more so than before. The man who could single handedly pilot a Jaeger – it had a nice ring to it. Catchy. People always want to believe they can do things on their own, without any help.

Magnus never – 

He never – 

For Magnus the drift was always about love. Not even necessarily his love for Julia, but his love for living, and for protecting. Piloting a Jaeger was a sacred duty for him, for them both. 

He didn’t know if he could do it without her.

He didn’t know if he wanted to.

 

For Taako, the drift was always about trust.

He didn’t enjoy an abundance of trust in his youth. Moving from house to house, foster family to foster family, he quickly learned to treat trust as more of an abstract context than reality. It was nice in theory, and he could appreciate that some people had it and enjoyed it, but he didn’t need it. 

Not all of his foster families were terrible, really. Some of them were quite nice people. Sometimes he had “siblings”, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes two moms, sometimes one, sometimes none at all. Most of the time he enjoyed his life with his foster families a lot more than he enjoyed the orphanage, with its drab corridor and forever-persistent chill. But at least the orphanage was consistent – family never was.

One particular memorable guardian was Aunt Sophie. She wasn’t really his aunt – he doesn’t know if he has one, even to this day. But she insisted he call her like that, insisted that even if it was for a short time, they were family. Taako was twelve, by then, and already done with the whole trust thing, but with her… it was easy to pretend, for a while.

She was the one who taught him to cook. Well, “taught” was a big word. Mostly she would stay at the kitchen, and he would run around underfoot, watching her work. Aside from him she housed three other children, and sometimes it felt like all she did was cook: breakfast, then lunch, then dinner, and all over again the next day. It was routine, but for Taako, who mostly subsisted on take away and frozen meals until then, it felt a little like magic. He used to steal her cooking books and memorize them, recipe by recipe, until he could recite them by heart. Once she caught him it became a bit more “official” – he would stand by her while she explained the different steps, what flavors this and that add, how much time he should stir or fry.

In retrospect, she probably wasn’t a very great cook. A lot of her dishes were bland and tasteless, and more often than not were either over or under cooked. But she was the first one Taako saw, and while Taako may not have trusted her, he trusted her skill, and wanted to trust his own.

The following years were a bit easier. With his new proficiency in the kitchen, a lot of the families were more inclined to keep him with them for a little while longer – he wasn’t much trouble, generally tending to stand apart from others and keep to himself, and he really was getting better at the cooking game. He even began to hope – well, not hope, but maybe think – 

It would be nice to stop moving around so much, is all.

But three more years went by and no one kept him. No one wanted him. And why the fuck should he stay nice and well behaved if it wasn’t going to fucking help?

 

Tamika helped. Tamika wasn’t his guardian – she was one of the other foster kids at one of the million foster families Taako stayed with over the years. From the distance of time he barely remembered the house or the family, but he remembered Tamika.

She was wild and untamed. A few years older than him, she was everything Taako hoped he would be, an example to show to the world that kids like him and her – they mattered, they weren’t nothing. She got in trouble constantly, but was smart and capable and top of her class in high school, with potential scholarships to several prominent universities, despite her spotty record.

But more important of all, she had style, and she was willing to share it.

Under her tutelage Taako learned to stop hiding away. Baggy clothes were replaced with flashy outfits; crop tops and skirts and dresses, everything a boy like him shouldn’t ware but wanted to. She taught him to hide the bags under his eyes with makeup, to use colors and shades and glitter to make his face unforgettable. No one wanted him, fine – he would want himself enough for all of them.

At high school he got by with scatching insults and a little dirty fighting. At home he was met with stony silences and a ticking clock. He didn’t trust Tamika, didn’t need her to protect him. He put himself out there, and he will protect himself. Just like he always did.

It seemed like time moved in an accelerated pace, after that. If families didn’t want a well-behaved kid who could cook, they sure as hell didn’t want a skirt-wearing boy covered in bruises, even if he could cook. Family to family to orphanage to family.

And then he was eighteen, and the world stretched in front of him, bright and wide.

He started working at a restaurant. First as a cleaning boy, then a waiter, until he was finally allowed into the kitchen. The pay wasn’t much, and he had to share a filthy apartment with three other guys, but the owner didn’t mind if he wore a dress under his apron, and it was enough to get by.

And then the Kaiju attacked.

Like most of the world, Taako saw the entire thing on the news. He wasn’t living near the coast, and as far as he could remember never have – none of his foster families lived there. He didn’t know anyone that died, didn’t know any of the cities that were destroyed.

He didn’t know how to trust anyone to get them out of his mess, and so naturally, he had to protect his own. He signed up for the pilot program the day it was announced.

The program wasn’t very much fun. Taako wasn’t big on physical anything, so that part pretty much constantly sucked. The simulations were okay, he wasn’t half bad at those, but they still didn’t really make his blood sing. The cafeteria food was atrocious, and the staff refused to let him help out.

It was terrible, and then it had Sazed, and then it stopped being quite so terrible.

He approached him one day after practice. Taako noticed him in passing in the halls, and knew he was one of the other candidates who didn’t come into the program with a potential partner. He noticed other people pairing up, and thought that was what the big guy was coming over to offer – a possible partnership.

(Never mind that the concept of the drift made him break out in hives. Having someone else in his head was… not something he was quite prepared to think about, even though that really was what all this rigorous training was leading to. Not yet).

He was taken aback when Sazed, quite bashfully, informed him that he used to be a regular at the restaurant he used to work at, and that he really, really, loved his food.

It really was a partnership made in heaven. For the first time in a very long time, Taako felt really, truly appreciated. He preened under the attention, and Sazed seemed willing to supply it in droves – always blushing and smiling a shy smile when he managed to make Taako laugh.

Taako looked at him, and thought that he could love this boy, and to his surprise found the thought not quite as alarming as it used to be.

Both of their simulation marks went up, and with the help of Sazed Taako even managed to do better on all the physical exams. They were chosen to be one of the few pairs that would undergo drift compability testing – from which only one pair will be chosen to pilot a Jaeger.

The night before the test they shared a bed, and a kiss, and a thought. And when the morning after found them standing in the drift chamber, Taako was ready to give the whole trust concept a try.

Their “Wizard Chef” was slimmer than most other Jaegers, but what it lacked in size it made up in agility. Theirs wasn’t a perfect balance – Taako would lead and Sazed would follow. Sazed would trust Taako to make the right call and Taako would trust Sazed to follow through. Their kill count wasn’t one of the highest, but that wasn’t why they were doing this. 

Or, well. That was what Taako used to think, anyway.

He wasn’t adverse to the fame and glory that followed their footsteps as Jaeger pilots. He welcomed it, even. Everything Tamika taught him, everything he taught himself, it all came to life in front of the camera, under artificial lights and artificial love. He owned the stage like he owned every aspect of his being: without fear or shame.

And he thought Sazed understood it. Understood that while he loved the media attention, that wasn’t why he was doing… all of this. God knows that if he just wanted some limelight he could have chosen a less dangerous profession. Maybe started his own cook show. Certainly not fight giant monsters in the middle of the ocean, strapped to a metal beast himself. Certainly not open his mind to another person.

Sazed was supposed to understand; that was how the drift worked, wasn’t it? Partners were supposed to know each other, on the deepest level possible. To trust and understand and love, flaws and shortcomings included.

Somehow Taako managed to fuck even that up, because Sazed started talking about leaving the program. He used ratings to justify it, cited that whole dumbass Wall Program as a possible solution. Showed Taako the media deals they could make, if they were no longer Jaeger pilots. Books and movies and talk shows, a plethora of options they could take.

Taako only ever wanted to be useful. It figures that after a life time of leaving other houses behind, his first home left him instead.

 

For Merle, the drift was always about possibility.

In his youth, he wasn’t afforded much of it. Born to a pastor, he lived most of his childhood and early adulthood in the same tiny, closed community. The same religious routines again and again, no change and no deviation. As an only son it was expected from him to eventually take his father’s place as the religious leader of the town, leading them towards a more wholesome life.

Or sometimes like that, anyway. Merle never really bought into any of it.

Did he believe? Sure. It was hard not to, when it was drilled into your head from a very young age, and anyway, it was pretty comforting, in its own way. To not be alone, to have someone up there for whom your life is worth something – it was nice. Merle never felt alone, not really, but he felt… unimportant. Like his own life didn’t quite matter, in the grander scheme of things. If he never had any choices to make, how could he affect anything? How could any of his achievements truly belong to him, and not his father, or his home, or his town?

The first chance he got, he got out. Explained to his father that going to a university would broaden his horizons, that yeah, sure, he would study religion, and would come back home every holiday to celebrate. 

He studied psychology and enjoyed it. It was interesting, and Merle found he had a particular knack for it. People always said he was good at listening, and hell, maybe he was. A good pastor was supposed to listen to his people, after all.

More than his studies he enjoyed the college life. He wasn’t much of a party animal, but he loved getting to know new people, from all over the world, from so many different cultures and backgrounds. So unlike his tiny, sleepy town. So unlike anything he has always known.

But eventually he went back, because there wasn’t much else he could do, he figured. Despite it all, he loved his father and wanted to do him proud. Besides, he never had much drive for anything. Psychology was interesting and fun, sure, but to continue with it required much more motivation than Merle thought he had. Pastor it was.

Homecoming was weird. Not because Merle has profoundly changed, but because other things had. His father had even more gray hair than before. Children he remembered playing around with since childhood were suddenly adults, some of them with their own families.

Hekuba grow up, and wow, wasn’t that a revelation.

They married in the winter after he finished his degree. It was a pretty ceremony, with most of the town there to watch – it was an “everyone knows everyone” type of situation, after all, and their celebration didn’t belong only to them.

Years later, Merle would reflect on it. He didn’t know if he loved her. He knew she was lovely, and he knew she made him laugh, but he didn’t know if that meant love. It was only when Mavis and Mookie came along that he figured out what real love meant, and by then. Well. It was too late, wasn’t it?

At first, the Kaiju didn’t even register as a large scale event for him. He was busy with his new born son, second after Mavis. He was busy with a deteriorating marriage, and with a daughter that seemed to be more and more alien to him. And after the Kaiju all of those remained, only now he also had a crisis of faith to deal with.

Only instead of dealing with all of that, he did what he couldn’t do at college – he ran.

In the days after he joined the program he sometimes wondered if he and Hekuba were ever compatible. Surely not in the last couple of years, but maybe at the beginning, when things were easier and softer, when the world seemed to still be held at bay from their lives. In his more bitter moments he wonders if maybe this could have fixed them – one time in the drift together for him to understand everything he never understood about her, and for her to understand everything she never understood about him.

It was a never explored possibility, another path in another life. In this life, Merle didn’t get a chance at the drift until the very last moment – a double event and an empty Jaeger and two other broken pilots. A possibility for love, a possibility for trust, a possibility to prove himself, to shout at god that he matters, he matters.

Merle was never much about regrets, and he didn’t think this would turn out to be one either.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come talk to me about taz or pacrim at tumblr or twitter: @merthurlin in both.


End file.
